Little Things
by rare-fandom
Summary: It’s the little things that you remember, especially when it’s the first time. DrakeJJ.


_A/N: The characters belong to the talented Sanami Matoh. I just borrow them when ideas come bouncing into my head. I hope she doesn't mind. Rated M for "strong adult themes", which in this case means non-graphic sex. If that isn't to your liking, then don't read. _

Of everything that happened the night Drake finally let his partner take him to bed, it's the little things that have stayed with JJ.

Like the feeling of Drake's fingers slipping beneath his shirt as they made out in the small kitchen of Drake's apartment, him sitting on the counter with his legs wrapped around the man standing in front of him. He remembers the tingle that shot through him at the feel of skin on skin, remembers pulling back to make sure he was reading into it what Drake meant him to. He definitely remembers the way his breath caught when Drake gave him a lopsided smile, slipped two fingers into his belt, and gave a soft tug.

Or the moment, right before they reached the bedroom, that Drake kissed him again. Up till then they'd been walking face to face, Drake leading JJ by those two fingers, then suddenly he pulled a little harder and JJ was flush against a broad chest with lips pressed forcefully against his own. It was rougher, more urgent then was normal for Drake, and it told him his partner was nervous, because after this there was no going back to being straight and no way to avoid serious damage to any friendship they might try to salvage if this all went south. JJ wanted to make the usual promises, about how he'd try to be gentle and that Drake would enjoy it, but he was cut off with a smile and a warning not to make any jokes about how messy the room was or how the comforter didn't match the walls. The words died in his mouth, because Drake didn't need to hear what he already knew. He settled instead for making a joke about the comforter.

He can still see clearly, vividly, the moment when he finally (oh how long he'd waited for that moment) got Drake out of those clothes and had the other man stretched out on the bed under him, and Drake had looked up with eyes that asked how he measured up to the lovers of JJ's past, and of course to Dee (who would always be a standard, lover or not). And then how his eyes had softened (brightened) as JJ traced contours with his hands, trying to explain without words that Drake didn't just measure up, as far as JJ was concerned he was the new yardstick.

He enjoys thinking about how as Drake grew more confident he grew bolder, rolling them over to pin JJ's hands to the mattress while he hovered above. JJ had eventually gotten free and they'd rolled again, but there was no fight to it. It was languid, lazy, and through it all JJ couldn't help but think that no one would believe him if he tried to tell them that Drake was so loud in bed, that it was he who was quiet. He didn't say anything about it to Drake, because that would make the other man self- conscious, and he'd stop all the sighs and moans that were making JJ heady.

He remembers finally deciding that something slick was needed, because while salvia might work for his fingers anything else needed more. How typically, Drake had had nothing near but refused to settle for a mutual hand (or blow) job because if he was going to do this, then dammit he was going to go all the way. Or how typically Drake it was that when they finally found something to use he wouldn't let JJ take him on his back, no matter how much he wanted to see Drake's face, because he "wasn't that flexible".

He remembers finally being in all the way, and the almost over whelming urge to thrust that he only held back because he could hear the whimper that was building in the back of Drake's throat. To help them both he leaned over and whispered things in his partner's ear, things like how he'd always been jealous of Drake's girlfriends because they took away so much of his attention or how he'd always thought (even when he was obsessed with Dee) that Drake had the best ass to ever be encased in a pair of comfy jeans. At that Drake had snorted, then had pulled forward and pushed back, making JJ tighten his grip on hips at the friction. Drake had looked behind him then, bemusedly, saying "JJ, just shut up and move. I'm not that fragile." JJ had obliged him, but not before letting him know that he really had always thought Drake had the best ass.

He remembers the moment Drake came, the hitch of breath that was the only warning before his partner was bucking into his hand as warm wetness spilled over him. He felt the clench of muscles around him, the hitch even out into the steady moaning of his name, the exhilarating re-realization that all of this reaction was because of him, and then the wave had been upon him and the next thing he knew was slumping boneless to the mattress beside an equally sated Drake.

But what he remembers the most about that night is the point during the after glow that Drake reached out in a gesture that began as a hair ruffle and ended up with JJ tucked into him as his partner ran fingers through his hair. And then turned his world on his axis by asking if JJ would mind spending Thanksgiving at the Parker family homestead.


End file.
